


A Fear of Heights

by AeeDee



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Dick have to deal with their fears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fear of Heights

**Author's Note:**

> These were originally posted as two separate fics, but they work best as a set. So it's now a two-parter that starts with one POV and ends with the other.
> 
> And on a fun note, this was the first time I wrote this pairing, almost 3 years ago. Funny how time flies.

Years spent in solitude. That’s how Bruce Wayne used to define his existence. He was trapped inside his own mind, consumed by mechanical plots that never came to fruition, questions that went unanswered and ambitions that were never completely realized. He was as lost as he was determined; motivated to get everything together and achieve the dream, whenever he could realize just what exactly the dream itself was.

In his own mind he was a disappointment, tormented by his failures. He mourned his losses, with each loved one or friend that fell in the effort to protect Gotham. He never properly grieved for his parents’ murder, but that was where it all began. He used his rage; he thrived on his guilt. He spurred himself forward with his hatred, in an obsessive campaign to do what no single man had ever done: to save his city from itself.

So that was the dream, as it was. But that dream was hazy and undefined. The road was uncertain. There were obstacles in his way, allies he couldn’t trust, foes with unclear objectives. A government that was broken from the inside-out, and a police force that was as furious as it was terrified of its own future. There were no heroes. There were no absolute villains. Gotham was a mess, and it was slowly sinking into depravity, consuming the last of his sanity with each day.

Bruce Wayne against a vicious world.

But then there was an anomaly. That which shouldn't exist in Gotham. Richard Grayson.

He met Richard “Dick” Grayson, and everything changed. Not because he wanted it to. It happened that way out of necessity. When the child’s parents died, he indulged a rare moment of pity; he’d never been able to go back on his word ever since.

He was a cold enough man to do it. He was rational enough, strict enough, cruel enough to do it. But not to Dick. There was just something about that kid. The boy looked up to him, trusted him, _adored_ him in a way no one had before. Not since the distant days of his own childhood, before he knew evil and murder and death existed in the world. Since then all he’d had were friends that wouldn’t stick around, acquaintances he’d frustrate and alienate, and Alfred. Patient as that old man was, he was more a nanny than anything. He loved Bruce out of obligation and nostalgia, fittingly as he’d been there since the day he was born.

So there was Dick Grayson. The Robin to his Batman, the bright-eyed boy that grew and grew until there was almost no innocence of that child left inside him. He was always charming. He was always clever. He was always enthusiastic and comfortable and sympathetic. But he too discovered the horrors of life, he too discovered tragedy that overshadowed even his own, and he too discovered that justice did not always prevail, people would not always do the right thing and life was often more dishonest than it was fair.

But still he’d smile. Still he laughed. Still he cracked jokes and shared his affection and warmth for life, the moments of happiness in between the raw ache of pain and loss. He would grow up into a better man than Bruce had ever been. A man more patient, more supportive, more insightful, and ultimately more successful. It was intimidating; when Dick would inevitably reach his age, there was no way of foreseeing just how powerful he would become.

But Dick would never become Bruce. There was something within him that fundamentally operated differently: his heart. Because from the moment he was old enough to understand what it was, Dick Grayson fell in love. He fell hard and fast, he fell down from the sky but never completely landed on the ground.

Bruce knew better. He knew that love was a weakness. Love was a vulnerability that gave you someone new to protect. Someone you’d need to die for. And even though he would’ve died for Dick or even Alfred regardless of anything else, he never, ever wanted someone to die for him.

He ignored advances and countless offers from men and women alike. He flirted with them for publicity and left their numbers behind. He dated a few for the immediate pleasure and would remind himself to back off before it became a commitment. Before it became a mutual risk. He’d found it all remarkably easy.

That is, until the evening when Dick Grayson said he loved him. Him, of all people. Of all the horrible people in the world.

He knew better than to listen so calmly. He knew better than to accept the kiss, and he knew better than to return it. And when he first allowed Dick to crawl into his bed, he knew better than to allow that to happen, too. Because. Well.

It was too dangerous. Dick was too close, too familiar. He was too comfortable and warm. He was exactly the kind of person Bruce could never allow to love him. Because Dick was precious to the world and Bruce was not worth the cost of removing him from it.

Bruce hated himself a little more each time Dick kissed him. But…

There was something magical about that hatred, too. Something powerful. Something that made him feel at peace, as if the hatred was alright, the anger was normal and everything that was ever fucked up about him was alright. When Dick would kiss him and smile, he felt like it was okay to feel terrified of seeing the kid sacrifice himself, it was okay to feel terrified of his own desperate need to protect him, and it was okay to - despite his reservations - enjoy those fleeting moments and accept that maybe, just maybe, what he’d started to feel as a reaction was a love that could become equally as ridiculous, amazing and profound as the emotion that was so honestly expressed to him.

And when he embraced Dick for the first time, embracing him only because he wanted to, initiating affection instead of returning it like always, it made that boy laugh. A soft laugh, a gentle laugh that was surprised and delighted and uncertain. A laugh that made his shoulders shake and his eyes close as he leaned into his neck and kissed it.

Years of solitude. For so much of his life, that was all Bruce Wayne had ever known. He was consumed by his fear for Gotham. He was compelled to act from guilt, defined by his grief and motivated by his hatred. The only emotions that existed in his world were born from pain, and the reality of how awful life is, and how frightening the world could be, and the distant promise of a future that could be better, only it didn’t know how. He spent years trying to build a future he never thought he’d ever see. A future he wanted, but didn’t believe in.

Bruce Wayne was a man that’d never believed in fairy tales, dreams or the ability to work miracles. He believed the goodness of a man was temporary, until he was inevitably broken by some unstoppable evil. He believed his ultimate dream was unattainable. He was exhausted, tired, burned out, and stressed. He was a symbol, an icon because he was a hollow, former shell of a human. He was incomplete and angry and terrified and furious and blindly vengeful.

But then he met Dick Grayson. And after that, he was still all of those things; but they started to make sense. For the first time, he was able to see a bigger picture that existed, of a Gotham with possibilities that extended far beyond the limitations and doubts of his own mind. Of a man, a single man with the ability to look into a heart of darkness and inspire light.

-x-

Sometimes he was still afraid of falling. It wasn’t the landing he was afraid of; it was the feeling of being suspended, of being helpless to change your speed or direction. Gravity was just too strong; once you lost control and slipped a bit too far, your fate was out of your hands.

You might live; you might die. You might break every bone in your body. Or you might happen to land in the perfectly exact spot, in the perfectly right position to crawl away with a broken leg and a sprained hand or so. There were no guarantees. There was no planning ahead. There was no strategy, and no way out. When you made that initial mistake, it was all a freefall down from there; a straight drop.

He was no stranger to the air. He wasn’t especially a risk-taker, he just liked the feeling of flying. A taste for it was in his blood. And when he met Bruce Wayne, that slight inclination was encouraged and rewarded until it grew into a permanent obsession. There was something off with his brain; he couldn’t keep still, couldn’t keep his feet on the ground. Not for very long.

So when Dick Grayson met Bruce Wayne, it felt like destiny.

He’d grown up in a sheltered universe, raised by parents that did all they could to save him from the dangers of the world outside. To spare his feelings, to preserve his dignity, to raise a happy child despite their financial and personal troubles. And when they fell to their deaths, he felt like his small world had collapsed with them.

But there was Bruce Wayne. Bruce, a man defined by tragedy. A man defined by the permanence of loss and the inability to completely recover. He was always looking back into the past and simultaneously forward into the future. He knew how to fly; he never took off without an idea of where he needed to go, and the wisdom to never forget where he started from. He taught Dick how to think, how to _really_ think, how to jump while looking and land squarely on your feet by skill alone. There was no time for lucky accidents. No time for mistakes, not even one. Because the one might be the fall that’ll break your back.

It was brutal, the way Bruce saw the world. But it was true and honest, too. Dick understood that. Every nightmare he spoke of was real. Evil did exist. Criminals and corruption, dark shadows lurking in the streets. There was always someone who needed to be saved, someone who couldn’t be helped in time, someone that would catch a rare moment of extraordinary luck, and someone that would die before they ever saw a miracle. That was life. That was Bruce’s cruel, cold world.

But there was… A single spark of light. Deep down, buried beneath years of stress and sleepless nights, disguised by pessimism and paranoia. Bruce had a soul, beneath the ashes. He had a heart that was greater than the man himself had ever realized, and would likely ever know.

Because even though he lived each day in darkness, he would never, ever let Dick fall into that same abyss. When the low moments of depression threatened to consume Dick, when the agonizing threat of failure kept him awake at night, when memories of his childhood would poison his dreams and turn into nightmares. Bruce was always there, a calm and cool voice from the corner of the room, quiet and simple words of advice. The hand on his shoulder when he’d wake up in tears.

The man that sighed, but remained still and patient when Dick said he wanted to kiss him. The bleeding heart that lacked the necessary cruelty to push him away. The sympathetic being that had observed, but never refused his flirtations or curiosities, because he refused to hurt his spirit. That was the Bruce he knew.

And that was the Bruce he came to love, even when he didn’t want to.

When they were flying together, he’d never felt more free. Rooftops like trees, an endless sky filled with diamonds. And when he said it was beautiful, Bruce just gave him the silent treatment. But he didn’t laugh. He’d never laugh. He’d never mock him. He’d never tear him down, except when he felt it was necessary to keep him safe. If anything, Dick was the rude one. He was the one cracking sarcastic one-liners, teasing him, flirting with him, provoking him even when he knew the man didn’t support what he was offering. Bruce had a moral standard. Dick just had a way of not caring about that at all.

Because he knew what he wanted. He never doubted what he wanted. When he’d started to kiss Bruce it was a pleasant joke, and as he continued it started to feel more amazing. It started to feel more real, like it was natural, like it was the cure for some ailment that he’d been afflicted with all this time.

And when he started to kiss the man with affection, touching him, stroking his back, deeply kissing and _tasting_ him; it was the kiss from one lover to another. A kiss that Bruce himself would accept, without protest. He’d return that gesture, and it’d continue from the one to the other, the way lovers kissed, the way lovers _loved_ each other.

For much of his life, Dick Grayson had been terrified of falling. He’d just never had time to dwell on that fact, because when he was in the air he felt so liberated that the thrill would suppress his fears. And that was how he felt every time he kissed Bruce. Uncharted territory; the awareness of leaping from a great height, with the potential to either land on your feet like you should, or to tumble down and land in a jumbled heap, broken bones and blood and all. If you even survived the fall. Maybe you wouldn’t.

He didn’t need Bruce to live. He didn’t need him to function in his daily life. But he needed the awareness that he was there, that he was the safety net to carry him when he couldn’t walk, to rebuild him when he crashed and broke into pieces. He was the healer, the source of reason and strength and wisdom and clarity of vision to guide him through Hell. Because unlike him, Bruce had been there. He had walked that path.

He was the reason that Dick could jump from any height. Because he didn’t fear the landing. He didn’t fear trauma. Because Bruce had been there, every step of the way. With the deaths of his own parents, Bruce had died that day… and came back. He’d been to Hell, and he knew the way out.

And when Dick would wake up in the middle of the night, with another nightmare lurking in his mind… Bruce was the valiant knight, to frighten away the monsters. He was the unstoppable evil. He was the villain with a bleeding heart.

And when Dick ever screamed in pain, Bruce was the voice that would whisper in his ear, a quiet murmur that “it’ll be alright, stay calm.”

Keep calm. Close your eyes; let’s fly. Fly away with me.

I can carry your weight.


End file.
